“Would you like to tell us,” Harry says, stepping into the house with his wand held aloft, “why you’re in Avery’s house?” From the corner of his eye, he sees Ron and Ginny exchange a look, but neither of them say anything or move from behind him.

“I don’t know,” Malfoy snaps. “For Merlin’s sake, will you come in already?”

Harry turns to glance at Ron. This could be a trap, he knows. It’s almost definitely some sort of trap. Get him and Ron and Ginny inside the house, and call a… a Death Eaters’ reunion meeting. Or something. He hasn’t thought the details through. He doesn’t want to go to the Ministry, though. After the imposter attack there, he’s worried about it, and he feels safer here with just Malfoy against him, and Ron and Ginny to back him up.

Ron nods, once, and Harry knows he’s on the same page as him. He doesn’t even need to look at Ginny to know what she’s thinking.

Sure enough, Ginny flips her long hair over her shoulder and walks into the house, deceptively casual but with her wand held at the ready by her side. Harry’s quick to follow her, and then Ron. Malfoy brings up the rear, and he points his wand at the door. Harry hears a lock click into place.

“So,” Ron says. “You say you don’t know why you’re in Avery’s house?”

“Even though,” Harry adds, “we know for a fact that you’ve got… family, nearby?”

“And that you were spotted here last month?” Ron adds.

“A very likely story,” Ginny says, and then walks into the kitchen, wrinkling her nose. “Merlin, my mum would have a heart attack if she saw the state of this place,” she mutters.

Harry can’t help but smile at that. He knows now, he thinks, how it was that Ginny knew immediately that the person at the Ministry wasn’t him. Because looking at her now, he knows that nobody in a million years has a chance in hell of trying to impersonate her and fooling him. She’s just herself, unapologetically so. It’s one of his favourite things about her.

“How do you know I was spotted here last month?” Malfoy demands.

“That’s not important right now,” Ron says.

“It is important, because I deserve to know if the bloody Auror department’s following me–honestly, don’t all of you have more important things to do than–”

“Malfoy,” Harry says, cutting him off without a shred of remorse. He doesn’t have patience to hear Malfoy’s drawl on the best of days, let alone today. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

The snarl on Malfoy’s face fades, and suddenly, he looks remarkably like he did a few years ago, in Malfoy Manor trying to deny that he knew Harry. “I… I was called,” he says.

“You were–what?” Ron says, but Harry sees the way Malfoy’s clenching the fist of his left arm, and he understands.

“The Dark Mark?” he asks. His heart sinks as he does, and it’s all he can do to not move his hand up to his scar.

Malfoy nods. Ginny gasps. Ron mutters, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again.”

Harry narrows his eyes, and then points his wand at Malfoy, right at his face. “How do we know we can trust you?” he demands. “How do we know it’s you at all?”

Malfoy hesitates. “I… it is me. I don’t know how to prove it to you.”

“Tell us something,” Ron says. “Something only Malfoy would know.”

Malfoy looks at Harry. He goes even paler. “You used Sectumsempra on me. Sixth year,” he says, very quietly.

Harry lowers his wands. He feels a bit shaky now, and he’s grateful when he feels Ginny’s warm hand slip into his. The soft touch serves to ground him, to bring him back from the sudden memories that come flooding into his mind as he thinks about the incident.

“Right,” he says, and then takes a deep breath. He pockets his wand, and clears his throat. “Right,” he says again. “So it is you. Right. And the Dark Mark…”

“Hasn’t burned in years,” Malfoy says. “Not since… not for years. But it went off yesterday. In the evening. When Granger was attacked. Which is why I’m here.”

“So the Dark Mark burned and you came here immediately. And you know about Hermione. And we’re meant to trust you now? You’re clearly working for them,” Harry says, and forces himself not to say again.

“I didn’t come yesterday,” Malfoy says. “I ignored it. But I knew where it was coming from. Astoria… she’s a Healer. She told me about Granger. I wanted to investigate, so… when I thought it would be clear, I came here. And you showed up, an hour later.”

Harry steps back, and turns to look at Ron, who shrugs. It seems like neither of them know what to do with this information.

Apropos of nothing, Ginny says, “Your wife’s Astoria? Greengrass, right?”

Malfoy looks startled. “Astoria Malfoy now, but yes,” he says.

“I know her,” Ginny says. “She was training to be a Healer when I was pregnant with Jamie. She’s the one who recommended that tea that helped my morning sickness. Remember?” she asks Harry.

“Yeah. I didn’t know that was her,” Harry says.

“It was,” Ginny says, and then gets her wand out. Malfoy looks a bit scared, but all Ginny does is point her wand at the curtains, which draw shut. “Right,” she says. “All of this, all of what’s happening… It all can’t be a coincidence, right?”

“No. It can’t be. And how do we know we can even trust you about all of this?” Ron adds to Malfoy. “We know you’re you, but for all we know, you’re still a cowardly bastard who’s on their side.”

“I’m not,” Malfoy says.

“Convincing,” Harry says dryly. There’s a sudden bang outside, and Harry straightens up, suddenly reminded of the fact that this is not, by any stretch of imagination, a safe place to talk. Who knows what sort of Dark magic Avery’s set up here?

Malfoy straightens up, but he still looks scared.

“Say we believe you,” Harry says. He’s talking fast, now, because he has no idea how much time they have left to speak in relative privacy. “And we take your word for it. Then we know Avery’s involved in this, and that he activated the Dark Mark again. Right?”

“Right,” Malfoy says.

“Okay. Well… thanks, Malfoy,” Harry says. The words feel like cotton in their throat because of how much he doesn’t want to say them. “This has been… helpful.”

“That’s it?” Malfoy demands. “Aren’t you the Chosen One? Shouldn’t you go arrest Avery and end this now? Stride into battle or the like?”

He’s scared, Harry realises. He doesn’t want a resurgence of Dark activity, no more than any of them do. It’s that, more than anything else, that convinces him that Malfoy won’t betray them.

“Not just yet, no,” he says. “Lie low now, if you can. Write if you hear anything. We’ll be in touch soon. Come on,” he adds to Ginny and Ron, giving Ginny’s hand a squeeze.

“And–” Ron adds, “if the Dark Mark goes off again. Get a Patronus to us. As soon as possible.”

“I’d suggest you leave here soon, by the way,” Ginny adds lightly. “If Avery comes back and finds out that you didn’t answer his call yesterday, he’s not going to be too happy, is he?” Before Malfoy can respond, she’s leaving the house, tugging Harry with her with Ron bringing up the rear.

*

“Should we tell them?” Ron asks.

They’re in Ron’s old bedroom, the five of them: Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and an exhausted Jamie, napping in Ginny’s lap with his hands curled into tight fists around the material of her jumper.

“The others, you mean?” Harry asks.

Ron shrugs. “Mum and Dad can tell something’s going. And so can George. They seemed quite curious at dinner.”

“We can’t tell them,” Ginny says, before any of them can say anything. “They’ll be so worried. A Dark resurgence? That’s not casual dinner time conversation, is it?”

“They have lived through two wars,” Hermione points out. She’s sitting next to Ron on his old bed, her head resting on his shoulder. He’s patting her bushy hair every now and then; Harry doesn’t think Ron even realises that he’s doing that, or realise the way he’s got his spare arm wrapped protectively around her.

“Exactly,” Ginny says. “They’ve lived through two wars. And now they’re grandparents. Don’t they deserve some peace?”

“Well, for one,” George says from the doorway, ignoring their jumps and gasps of surprise as he talks, “if there’s a Dark resurgence, I don’t think you should tell Mum or Dad. You should tell me, though.”

“What the fuck,” Ron says, sitting up straighter now. “You’re–you’re eavesdropping!”

“Don’t swear in front of the babies,” George says casually, walking into the door with little Freddie in his arms.

Harry points his wand at the door to close it, and then says, “Muffliato. George, what are you doing here?”

“Freddie couldn’t sleep,” George shrugs, and then sits down next to Harry. “Besides, the four of you are shit are keeping secrets. Well–not Ginny,” he adds fairly.

“Thank you,” Ginny says, looking genuinely touched.

Freddie looks at Harry and then giggles says, with all the intelligence of  someone who’s nearly two, says, “Specsy git!”

“I wish you’d stop teaching him things like that,” Harry grumbles, but lifts Freddie up, letting him settle into his lap. Freddie leans up to tug at Harry’s hair, and somehow manages to remove his glasses at the same time.

“Don’t blame me. I think Angelina taught him that. She’s the bad influence in our relationship, I keep telling her that,” George says, and then, “What’s all this, then?”

Ron looks at Harry, who shrugs. It’s Ginny who speaks up, though. “Do you want the short version or the long version?” she asks George.

“The short version,” George says.

“Alright, then. There were some imposter attacks. Someone impersonated Harry at the Ministry and tried to attack me and Ron and Jamie. And then Hermione was Stunned outside the safe house. And now Malfoy and Avery are involved, except we think Malfoy’s on our side, and also the former Death Eaters felt the Dark Mark burn right after Hermione’s attack, so it’s all a bit confusing and vaguely terrifying,” Ginny says.

George blinks, and says, “Actually, I think I need the long version.”

Ten minutes later, after Hermione’s finished filling George in on everything that’s happened over the last few days and Freddie’s fallen asleep right in Harry’s lap, George sits up.

“Well,” he says, “it’s clear what you need to do, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Harry asks. It’s never been less clear to him. He has no idea how to proceed from here.

“Of course. You need to take a page out of their book,” George says.

“We need to Stun our friends?” Ron asks.

George flicks his wand, and the pillow on Ron’s bed lifts up and smacks the side of his head. “I have a plan,” George continues, ignoring Ron’s squawk of protest. “How much do you trust Malfoy?”

Harry considers. “I don’t think he’ll betray us. I think he’s scared of a Dark resurgence. Likes his comfortable life with Astoria too much to risk anything ruining that,” he adds, and can’t resist rolling his eyes.

“Exactly,” George says. “So write to him, and tell him to meet us in a week’s time. He’ll have to cooperate with us.”

“There’s just one problem, though,” Harry says. “You still haven’t told us what the plan is.”

A slow smirk spreads onto George’s face. “Well. If it’s true that the former Death Eaters are behind all of this, then we still don’t know their full plan, do we?”

“No,” Hermione agrees with a sigh. It frustrates her, Harry knows, to not know the full picture of what’s happening.

“And they’re not going to tell us the plan. But they might tell someone else. Someone who missed the first meeting,” George says.

Harry narrows his eyes. “You want Malfoy to go undercover to find out their plan?”

“No,” Ginny says. “I know he’s kind of our side here, but no. Absolutely not. I don’t trust him enough to do it.”

“Besides, he’s too much of a coward to agree to something that risky,” Ron puts in.

George shakes his head. “My dear siblings. You wound me. I wouldn’t trust that ferret with it, either. Which is why I said we need to take a page from their books.”

“Oh. Oh,” says Hermione softly.

“What are you talking about?” Harry demands, too exhausted and worried to keep up with whatever train of thought George is having.

George’s smirk widens. “I thought it was obvious,” he says. “One of us is going to have to impersonate Malfoy. We’re going to infiltrate the Death Eaters.”